I do, I don't

I do still love
the father of my child
when he was gentle
his moods were so mild
we had some laughs
we had some fun
I remember the night
we made our son
I do still love
the man I met
who he became
I'd rather forget
we were once happy
he was my sweet Chris
his cuddly strong arms
I do sometimes miss
I don't still love
the disgusting fat dickhead
forcing himself on me
and left me crying in bed
I don't still love
the way he made me feel
for my heart and soul
in which he did steal